Divine Interference
by Lewd Concubine
Summary: Il Forte should know better than to leave. Szayel Aporro holds the power of life and death in his hands. Szayel Aporro/Il Forte


**Pairing: **Szayel Aporro Grantz/Il Forte Grantz

**Rating:** R

**Warning:** disturbing imagery

**Notes:** Unbeta'd. This was written for my darling Akaadji whose friendship means the world to me and whose Il Forte is grand.

**Divine Interference**

**by: Ryoko (Lewd Concubine)**

He had the room arranged exactly to his specifications. Every detail was taken care of, every variable accounted for and rendered irrelevant. Everything was perfect; he had made sure of that just as he always did. The whole affair was meticulous and to his expectations, except for one thing: the experiment to be conducted was on a subject science could not easily interpret. Naturally, this would not stop Szayel Aporro. He did so love a challenge, and if his calculations were correct this would prove to be one. Succeeding would further demonstrate his greatness, and should the experiment fail, no one would know. There was nothing to lose.

The test subject had also been carefully prepared. Szayel had rescued and preserved it for just such an occasion, anticipating Aizen's need. The body was in disarray having sustained a massive, life-ending injury. This left it far from the beauty it had been in life. There was a tattered arm attached by a thread of tissue to a shattered torso, ribs puncturing leathery skin in various places. One of the legs was missing, the other cut off from the knee. What was left of the right arm hung limp and useless to the side of the body. The head was nothing more than a grinning skull, hair stuck in tufts to charred skin. Indeed, the whole body was covered in third-degree burns. It was dead, broken, _perfect_.

Szayel stepped back from the circle outlined on his floor one last time, carefully avoiding contact with the test subject within. Intent on their duties, his loyal Fraccion scurried about as he gave the order for the experiment to begin. One flipped the appropriate switch and the ever-present hum of electricity grew in intensity until it went beyond the range of his hearing. Several seconds passed. The light in the room flickered and dimmed as all power was diverted to the circle at Szayel's feet. He stepped back again as the circle began to glow, orange spreading from the side opposite him until the entirety was illuminated. Slowly, as if the very air was fighting it, the orange illumination began to ascend. It rose and fell in a rhythmic pattern until it encapsulated the test subject in a mildly transparent half-sphere.

Szayel held his breath, gaze intense as he scrutinized the remnants of the body. The change was immediate, but insignificant--the only difference noted by Szayel's discerning eye the test subject's skin losing some of its blackened discoloration. Minutes passed and he began to wonder if his calculations had been incorrect. However, as this was rarely ever the case, he dismissed the thought.

Glancing to the side, Szayel found the source of the problem. One of his Fraccion had somehow grabbed several of the power cables and was being electrocuted. Szayel frowned and snapped his fingers, once, twice. At the second, the misbehaving thing hissed and slid to the ground, dead. He paused at this to mentally congratulate himself on installing such a superb fail-safe in his minions before turning back to the glowing sphere.

Now that the unnecessary addition to the circuit had been removed, the orange color grew more intense, almost obscuring the test subject within. The change became more rapid as well, muscles sewing themselves over newly formed bone. The test subject's missing legs sprouted from mutilated flesh, tattered arms joining themselves to the now robust looking torso. Last to come was the long, blonde hair.

Szayel smirked as he glanced at the test subject's vitals splashed across one of his overlarge monitors--everything was perfectly normal. The experiment was a success. Just how effective he did not yet know, but at the very least, the body had been regenerated. Aizen would be more than pleased with his work; Szayel was sure.

He gestured for one of his Fraccion to cut the power and it did, returning the laboratory to its normal brightness. Inside the circle, the test subject twitched and Szayel smirked. It appeared the soul had returned as well. _Excellent._

Stepping closer, he made note of the perfect color of the specimen's skin, the beautiful contours of its limbs. Beauty, health, and spiritual vitality had been returned to it. And all because of him.

Clinical gaze unwavering, he watched as the test subject came to, watched as it sat up and fixed on him the customary cold glare. Szayel mentally checked off _personality_ on his list. Naturally, everything would be checked and double-checked, but Szayel felt safe in calling the experiment a success. His study of the human--or was she?--female's abilities had proved to be as fruitful as he had always hoped. From Ulquiorra's first report to the time he had spent observing and experimenting on her in Las Noches, Szayel had been able to build a machine that replicated her powers. The research had been difficult, Aizen's laughable stipulation that she not be harmed the subject of much frustration, but in the end he had succeeded. The human girl was now irrelevant, just as Szayel was sure his leader had always predicted.

"Did you really think your death would end things, brother?" Szayel asked, coming to stand next to Il Forte. The Numeros offered no response, merely rolling his eyes in distaste. No matter. In his accomplishment, Szayel had effectively put Il Forte in his debt. It was one which he would make sure his brother _dearly_ paid. After all, he was sure Aizen would not mind giving him Il Forte as a small reward.

He stood smirking, basking in the afterglow of his success for a moment more, before crouching down next to Il Forte. His brother's naked, perfect body drew all of his attention. Il Forte's legs were long, so long. And muscular. Szayel held one in an iron grip, fingers digging in as he scrutinized his brother's bare flesh.

"Trash that you may be, you should know better." Szayel bit down hard on Il Forte's _oh_-so-beautiful calf and tasted the fruit of his labor; there could be nothing sweeter.


End file.
